I get a Knitter's Page-a-Day calendar thingie sent to my email every day. Usually it's just little snide asides, all the stuff knitters think but don't generally say out loud - you can never have enough yarn, how can your partner complain about how many needles you have, then go get just *one* more screwdriver, that sort of thing. Some helpful tidbits, some historical things. And then there was today's:

The Way Knit WasIn 19th-century Iceland, as a motivator to get people to work hard and use up all of the autumn wool, folklore held that each person needed to receive at least one new knitted garment each Christmas - or suffer the wrath of the Yule Cat, a large, vicious, and cruel feline who would come and eat them.

I don't care if it's a true legend - I'm not even going to check - because I *want* it to be true. Too Funny!

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'One of Iceland's most beloved poets in this century, Jóhannes úr Kötlum, wrote a lay about the Yule Cat. It follows in the translation of Vignir Jónsson, who says: "You'll have to forgive me but I didn't make it rhyme - I'm not much of a poet."'

You all know the Yule Cat And that Cat was huge indeed. People didn't know where he came from Or where he went.

He opened his glaring eyes wide, The two of them glowing bright. It took a really brave man To look straight into them.

His whiskers, sharp as bristles, His back arched up high. And the claws of his hairy paws Were a terrible sight.

He gave a wave of his strong tail, He jumped and he clawed and he hissed. Sometimes up in the valley, Sometimes down by the shore.

He roamed at large, hungry and evil In the freezing Yule snow. In every home People shuddered at his name.

If one heard a pitiful "meow" Something evil would happen soon. Everybody knew he hunted men But didn't care for mice.

He picked on the very poor That no new garments got For Yule - who toiled And lived in dire need.

From them he took in one fell swoop Their whole Yule dinner Always eating it himself If he possibly could.

Hence it was that the women At their spinning wheels sat Spinning a colorful thread For a frock or a little sock.

Because you mustn't let the Cat Get hold of the little children. They had to get something new to wear From the grownups each year.

And when the lights came on, on Yule Eve And the Cat peered in, The little children stood rosy and proud All dressed up in their new clothes.

Some had gotten an apron And some had gotten shoes Or something that was needed - That was all it took.

For all who got something new to wear Stayed out of that pussy-cat's grasp He then gave an awful hiss But went on his way.

Whether he still exists I do not know. But his visit would be in vain If next time everybody Got something new to wear.

Now you might be thinking of helping Where help is needed most. Perhaps you'll find some children That have nothing at all.

Perhaps searching for those That live in a lightless world Will give you a happy day And a Merry, Merry Yule.